


octarine

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [44]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Arthur, Oblivious Merlin, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Merlin isn't Arthur's soulmate, and Arthur isn't Merlin's, yet somehow in spite of themselves they're everything to one another. Which is why, when Arthur finally starts seeing in colour, he isn't willing to let Merlin go without a fight.Written for Merlin_Holidays Fest 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlehuntress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehuntress/gifts).



> Many thanks to the incomparable [digthewriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/pseuds/digthewriter) for the amazing beta work! Any remaining errors are my own :)

 

 

 

The first colour Arthur ever saw was blue.

It was only for a moment, so fast that at first he thought he had imagined it. Most of his friends who had met their soulmates already said that it usually manifested all at once, like someone had flicked a switch and suddenly the whole world lit up in vibrant technicolour, but for Arthur the effect was more like tuning static: there one minute, gone the next. He wandered into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee and tried to blink himself awake, and when he turned to kiss Merlin good morning, he realised that the other man’s eyes were blue.

Arthur dropped his coffee. The mug shattered at his feet, sending a flood of dark liquid across the tiled floor, but Arthur was too stunned to jump out of the way. 

He knew what seeing in colour meant. Of course he did. Like everyone else, he’d grown up with the knowledge that everything he saw would be black and white, until the moment he met the person destined to be his other half. What he didn’t understand was why it had to happen now, when he’d done nothing but keep his head down and try not to get involved. Who had he met in the last twenty-four hours that could be his soulmate?

“Are you all right?” Merlin asked, kneeling down beside him to help clean up the mess. Arthur’s fingers were shaking so badly he cut himself on one of the broken pieces, the blood welling up thick and dark from his lacerated thumb. Merlin took hold of his wrist, tilting the hand thumb-upwards and pressing a kiss into his palm, those newly lucent eyes smiling up at him, before pulling a paper towel off the roll and wadding it up to staunch the blood.

“I’ll live,” Arthur said, after a moment, but not like he was certain.

 

 

 

On the way to work, he did his best to rationalise the incident. It could have been a nightmare, or a trick of the light. It happened sometimes, when the angle was good, or he turned just the right way at just the right moment; it was like he could see the colours change out of the corner of his eye, although they always went back to normal when he looked at them straight on. He’d played a game with it when he was little, trying to guess at the colours of everyday objects without asking one of the soul-bonded adults what they were. It didn’t feel much like a game anymore.

Statistically speaking, most people met their soulmates around his age, or perhaps a little later. Although a few people bonded as early as eighteen, so far no one had recognised their soulmate before the onset of puberty, with the earliest recorded age being somewhere around fourteen and a half. There was some speculation as to whether this was related to physical or psychological maturity, or both — difficult to form a soul-deep bond with someone when you were still figuring out who you were and what you wanted to do with your life — but no one really knew for sure. They weren’t even all that certain how the whole soul-bond thing worked, exactly, or why it was necessary in order for the human brain to perceive a broader spectrum of visible light, when technically speaking they ought to be able to do that on their own. Earlier generations had simply put it down to magic, but since the turn of the previous century a great deal of scientific research had been dedicated to unraveling the whys and wherefores of the soulmate phenomenon. It had become an international obsession.

Arthur had never wanted any part of it. He’d seen all too clearly what the loss of his soulmate had done to his father, and to the many others whose loved ones had died before their time. That kind of loss changed a person, warped their insides into something unrecognisable, and Arthur had already dealt with more than his fair share of guilt and grief. He was content not to have a normal life, and to never see more than the slightest flicker of colour if that was what it took to be sure he never inflicted that kind of pain on anyone — or had to suffer through it himself.

He’d never asked what Merlin’s reasons were, because it hadn’t seemed important. At the time, he hadn’t really been planning for the long term, or even for the near future; un-bonded relationships like theirs were generally considered a temporary fix, assuming their existence was acknowledged at all. Somewhere along the line, of course, their hookups had turned into something more exclusive, and when Merlin’s roommate had found her happily ever after, Arthur had thought nothing of inviting Merlin to move in with him. He liked Merlin. Liked how they were with each other. The thought of losing that easy intimacy because of something he could neither choose nor control made him feel nauseous and a little panicky, but he couldn’t think of what he could do to stop it. Already different shades of blue were beginning to bleed through around him. The girl sitting across from him had a dark blue coat. The man standing in the aisle had blue earbuds. The more Arthur tried to ignore it or reason it away the more it seemed determined to flaunt itself at him, like a cheap date that had tired of waiting for him to make a move.

Eventually, Arthur closed his eyes and leaned against the side of the train, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. His temples were throbbing in time to the wheels on the tracks, and he could feel a migraine coming on. As if today didn’t suck enough already.

When he got off at the tube station, half the street signs were lettered in blue.

 

 

 

Mercifully, Arthur’s office was colour-free, without a hint of blue on any of the walls or floors. By the time Arthur had picked up his mail from his secretary and was safely installed behind his desk with his first cup of tea, his headache had receded somewhat and he was starting to feel marginally better. After all, just because he had met his soulmate didn’t necessarily mean anything had to change. He had no idea who they were, to start with, and there was always the chance that the bond wouldn’t take; he’d never heard of someone seeing only one colour at a time before, so that had to mean something, right? Plus, aside from the weirdness on the tube that morning, he didn’t really feel any different. He certainly didn’t feel the overwhelming joy or recognition that was supposed to come from encountering his soulmate, nor was he unexpectedly drawn to anyone in particular. In fact, all he really wanted to do was go home and tell Merlin everything, then curl up under the covers with him until they figured out some way to fix this whole mess. Arthur didn’t _need_ a soul bond, that was the plain truth of it, nor did he want one. His soulmate was just going to have to find somebody else.

This newfound optimism lasted until just after lunch, when the headache that had been lingering all day came back with a vengeance. Arthur’s one o’clock appointment was wearing a dress in a shade of blue so violent it was physically painful, and the man who came after her was wearing a blue striped tie that was somehow worse for being interspersed with ordinary black and white. Every time he looked at it, Arthur felt as though a sharpened spike were stabbing at his eye-sockets, and there were several moments during the interview when he was afraid he was going to throw up. He managed to calm his stomach by sipping at his glass of water, but by the time the meeting was over his head was aching so badly he had no idea whether they had managed to come to any kind of agreement.

“Elena, make a note to double-check the contents of anything Mr Valiant sends me to sign,” Arthur instructed via the intercom, once the man with the hideous tie had gone. “And I’m afraid we’re going to have to clear the rest of my afternoon; I think I may be coming down with something.”

“Of course, Arthur.” Elena’s friendly response came back to him at once, her voice warm with concern. “Don’t worry about a thing. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Arthur hesitated. On the one hand, all he wanted to do was go home, down a handful of aspirin, and fall asleep with his head on Merlin’s lap. But it was barely two in the afternoon; Merlin would still be at work, and Arthur couldn’t exactly demand that he come home to nurse him without revealing the source of the problem, even if he had felt comfortable asking. On the other hand, there was the remote possibility that this had nothing to do with soul-bonds whatsoever, and that Arthur’s symptoms were being caused some kind of brain tumour, or something equally dire. In which case, simply curling up in bed and waiting for his headache to pass wasn’t likely to do him much good.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give Dr Gaius a call,” Arthur said reluctantly, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Ask him if he can fit me in sometime this week, but don’t pursue it if he’s busy. It’s not urgent.”

Elena promised to put the call through immediately, and rang off. Arthur suspected she had deliberately ignored the second part of his request, however, because a few minutes later she was knocking on his door to say that Gaius would be happy to see him that very afternoon, and that he would need to leave immediately if he wanted to get there on time.

“I hope you didn’t tell him it was some kind of emergency,” Arthur said, eyeing her over his desk as he stood up to gather his things. “The last time I made an appointment, I had to schedule it over a month in advance.”

Elena only smiled sweetly, and handed him his briefcase.

“Gaius knows you,” she said. “Which means he knows that if it’s bad enough to make you leave work in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, then it’s a miracle you’re not coughing up blood. Now hurry up, you’re going to miss your train.”

 

 

 

Dr Gaius had been the Pendragon family’s physician since before Arthur was born. It had been he who had answered Arthur’s questions about his mother when he was a child, and who had explained, when Uther would not, about the mechanics of the soul-bond and bonding once Arthur came of age. He hadn’t needed to tell Arthur that his parents had been bonded, however – that much Arthur had understood for himself, even if these days it wasn’t necessarily a given. Uther’s attachment to his wife had continued beyond her death, precluding all but the most perfunctory affection for his son and blinding the man to any emotion but the pain of her loss. Once Gaius had told him what bonding meant, it hadn’t been difficult to understand why, or to conclude that it was the last thing Arthur wanted to impose on another living being.

As well as being an old friend, Gaius was also a specialist in the subject of soul-bonds and metaphysiognomy; if there was anyone Arthur trusted to figure out what was going on with his headaches and fucked-up vision, it was him. But Gaius didn’t seem to share his confidence.

“I’ve never heard of anything like this before,” he admitted, frowning as he scribbled something onto a white notepad. The blue ink seemed to spark at the edges of Arthur’s vision, forcing him to squint. “All of our research so far indicates that the ability to see colour occurs simultaneously with the creation of the bond, as soon as the two destined individuals meet. Sometimes there may be a delayed onset, but usually not more than a minute or two. Certainly never over a period of days.”

Arthur’s heart sank. “So you have no idea what this could be?”

“I didn’t say that.” Gaius frowned at him over the top of his spectacles. “I have several _ideas_ , but I won’t know which, if any of them, is correct until I have some more information.”

Duly chastened, Arthur waited patiently while the physician took his blood pressure and ran through some of the more obvious tests, the same ones he performed every year when Arthur came in for his annual check-up. While he worked, he asked Arthur some more questions about his life, his history, and anyone he had met over the past week and a half who might have served to trigger his symptoms. He seemed particularly interested to hear about Merlin.

“So the two of you have been living together for some time?”

“A few years now, give or take.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders, trying not to sound defensive. Even though it was no longer considered a crime, un-bonded couples weren’t something that was talked about openly. “It’s not as if we’re hurting anyone.”

“Hmm.” Gaius’s response was disapproving. “But you are – intimate?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It may be, or it may not.” Gaius put away his stethoscope, and gestured for Arthur to roll up his right sleeve so that he could draw some blood for testing. “It is possible that your…attachment…to Merlin is what is preventing the bond from developing the way it should. That might explain why the experience of colour is only intermittent.”

“I thought you said the bonding happened instantaneously,” Arthur objected. He looked away as Gaius unwrapped the needle, his already unsettled stomach rolling, and did his best to distract himself by counting the number of blue-coloured things in the doctor’s office. There were surprisingly few of them, all things considered. “Doesn’t that mean it’s supposed to happen as soon as you meet your soulmate?”

“Most of the time, yes. But you have to understand that this is a significant physiological change, influenced by a number of complicated factors. Should any one of those factors be inhibited, my guess is that it may result in a delayed or partial shift. Or even no shift at all.”

“So what you’re saying is, because of my relationship with Merlin, whatever it is that causes my vision to change has been — blocked, somehow? And so has the bond with my soulmate?”

“I’m saying that is a possibility, yes.” Gaius’ eyes were steady and kind, but that didn’t mean he pulled any punches. “You might want to think about ending the relationship so that things can take their natural course.”

Their natural course. Arthur sat very still as Gaius withdrew the needle, moving obediently when he covered the spot with cotton wool and told Arthur to apply pressure with his other hand. He had known from the beginning what this would mean for him and Merlin, but to have it put in such stark terms was somehow disconcerting. A familiar little clutch-clench of panic, like the beginnings of a stomachache, tugged at his gut, and he shifted in his seat.

“Does that mean if I stay with Merlin, the bond might not develop any further?” He asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Gaius raised his eyebrows at him anyway. “It might.”

“So if I didn’t _want_ to find my soulmate, or for some reason couldn’t track them down…?”

“Then in theory you could remain with Merlin indefinitely. However, such a course of action may also result in worsening symptoms for both you and your intended.” He glowered at Arthur across the examination table. “It hardly seems right or fair to subject an innocent to that kind of pain and uncertainty.”

The fact that this might affect anyone else had not occurred to Arthur. He felt a twinge of guilt when he thought of his soulmate, wherever they were, and the idea that they may well be suffering from the same headaches and confusion as he was without Gaius to tell them how to fix it. However much he might not wish it, this was someone whose well-being he ought to care for and protect, not forget about the second it became inconvenient. He sighed.

“You’re right, of course,” he said. He gave Gaius a weak smile, although he wasn’t sure it was very convincing. “I’m sure I’ll be able to figure out who they are without much trouble.”

“Hmph,” was Gaius’ only response. He finished writing up the label for the vial of Arthur’s blood, then gave it to Arthur with instructions to leave it with the nurse at the desk on his way out. “I’ll get back to you with the results in a few days, and we can proceed from there. I’ve also given you a prescription for some extra-strength painkillers that should help with your headaches,” he added, handing Arthur another sheet of paper with something incomprehensible scribbled on it in blue. “But if they don’t get any better, or you start experiencing other symptoms – dizziness, black-outs, bleeding from the nose or any other orifice – I want you to contact me immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, Gaius. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my boy. Oh, and Arthur – ” Arthur paused in the doorway and looked back, and Gaius fixed him with a stern expression that did nothing to hide the compassion in his gaze. “You will have to tell Merlin sooner or later. It may be kinder in the long run to make it sooner.”

Arthur let out his breath. “Yes,” he said. “You’re probably right.”

 

 

 

In spite of having left work early, when Arthur got home that evening it was already dark, and Merlin was in the kitchen heating up some leftovers from the night before. It wasn’t an unusual sight by any means, but for some reason Arthur found himself arrested, taking in the sweep of Merlin’s lashes against his pale skin, the softness of his mouth as he hummed over the stove. The longer Arthur looked the more he appeared to be coming slowly into focus: the bloom of red on his cheeks and lips; his ratty t-shirt that was green instead of black. He looked like a half-finished illustration, and for a wild moment Arthur wondered if he was even real.

“Are you just going to stand there staring, or are you going to set the table?” Merlin asked, without turning around. “The pasta’s almost done.”

Arthur snorted. “Hello to you too,” he said, stepping around Merlin to pull out the knives and forks. “And I wasn’t staring, I was thinking. You just happened to get in the way.”

“You must have been thinking pretty hard, then.” Merlin took the pasta off the heat and began dividing it between two blue-striped plates. “Better watch you don’t hurt yourself.” He grinned into Arthur’s glare. “Busy day at the office?”

“No more than expected. Why?”

“You’re home later than usual, that’s all.”

“I was doing a bit of Christmas shopping,” Arthur lied, returning to the fridge to fetch the grated cheese. Merlin always had cheese on top of his spaghetti, although Arthur personally couldn’t stand the stuff. “Well, trying. It’s a madhouse out there. Eventually I just gave up.”

“ _You_ were doing Christmas shopping?” Merlin sounded amused. “What, did your secretary quit, or something? I wasn’t even sure you recognised Christmas as a thing.”

“Of course I recognise Christmas as a thing,” Arthur said, offended. “I always get you something, don’t I?”

“You always have your secretary get me something,” Merlin corrected. He popped the last forkful of pasta directly into his mouth instead of onto his plate and chewed, saying thickly, “There’s a difference.”

Pursing his lips, Arthur tugged the pot out of Merlin’s hands and dumped it in the sink, turning on the tap to fill it with water. “Well, maybe today I felt like doing it myself. Is that a crime?”

“Not at all. I’m sure Elena was thrilled at the reprieve.” Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Are you okay? You seem a little…stressed.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur said tightly, massaging his temple. His head was beginning to hurt again, and the last thing he felt like doing was sitting through an entire meal bantering with Merlin, pretending everything was normal when it was about as far from normal as it was possible to get. “I’m just tired, that’s all, and my head is killing me.”

“Too many Christmas carols,” Merlin said sympathetically. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you’ve had something to eat.”

He caught Arthur’s hands and pulled him into a quick kiss that tasted sharply of bolognese, then turned away to collect their plates. Arthur followed him to the table, his lips still savouring of spices, and in spite of himself he felt some of the tension he’d been carrying around all afternoon beginning to dissolve. Maybe Merlin wasn’t his soulmate, but he was comforting and familiar, two things Arthur desperately needed after everything that had happened that day. Gaius was right, of course; it wasn’t fair to either of them to drag this out when he knew that he was destined for someone else, but he couldn’t help wishing that he didn’t have to let go just yet. Or perhaps that he never had to let Merlin go at all.

 

 

 

Keeping important information from Merlin was difficult and ultimately futile, something Arthur already knew from bitter experience, but it seemed like every time he tried to bring up the subject of soulmates, Merlin would do or say something that made it too painful for him to confess. It didn’t help that Merlin was always so happy at this time of year; he loved Christmas, and it seemed somehow impossible to spring the news on him when he was padding through the flat in his red-nosed reindeer slippers humming Christmas songs. If nothing else, having to find somewhere else to stay during the holiday season, when most of their friends were either busy or out of town, would be sure to burst his happy little bubble. Surely it would be kinder to wait, at least until the holidays were over.

Of course, Arthur reckoned without Merlin’s natural curiosity and penchant for stumbling into things Arthur wanted to keep secret. The year before, Merlin had been frantically searching for something to wear to his office Christmas party when he’d tripped, accidentally collided with the stand-alone wardrobe, and in so doing had managed to dislodge his presents from their hiding place on top of it, scattering them all over the bedroom floor. He had been rather shamefaced afterwards – Merlin loved surprises – but that didn’t change the fact that literally stumbling over things he wasn’t supposed to know about seemed to be one of his talents.

For that reason, Arthur usually kept the bottle of pills Gaius had given him in his trouser pocket, unwilling to trust it to their shared set of drawers or the bathroom cabinet where Merlin might come across it unawares. He had tried leaving the bottle in his drawer at work, but that had just resulted in his getting hit with an unexpected migraine one night when the office was long closed, leaving Merlin to try to nurse him through it with ordinary aspirin. The barely-concealed anxiety on Merlin’s face when Arthur had spent half the night vomiting because of the pain had made him resolve never to go anywhere without the proper pills again. He hated it when Merlin fussed.

Keeping the bottle in his pocket seemed like the perfect solution, until it was Merlin’s turn to do the laundry. It never occurred to Arthur that he should have emptied his own pockets until he walked into the bedroom and found Merlin sitting on the bed, his lap draped with dirty clothing, the bottle of Arthur’s headache pills clutched in one hand.

“Oh, here, I’ll take those,” Arthur said quickly, reaching for the pills. “Sorry, forgot I left them in there.” But it was too late. Merlin was already skimming the label, mild curiosity turning slowly into something a lot like dread as he glanced between the prescription and Arthur’s no doubt extremely guilty expression.

“Since when do you take medication?” he asked slowly, searching Arthur’s face. “Are you sick?”

“No! Well, not exactly.” Arthur shifted his feet. “You know I’ve been getting headaches lately. Dr Gaius said those pills would help with the pain, that’s all.”

“Gaius is my uncle,” Merlin said flatly. “He’s a specialist, not an ordinary GP. Why is he filling out your prescription?”

With a sigh, Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. He could probably attempt another lie, but from his tone Merlin was unlikely to believe him.

“I think you can guess,” he said finally, unable to look Merlin in the eye. He took the bottle from Merlin’s unresisting hand and turned it over in his fingers, listening to the pills rattle hollowly inside. “I met my soulmate.”

 

 

 

Merlin started packing the same afternoon.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t I?” Merlin flung open the wardrobe, picking out his shirts from where they were mingled together with Arthur’s own and chucking them down on the bed. “Arthur, we talked about this. We agreed that as soon as one of us found their soulmate, the other would bow out gracefully. We both know that’s how this works.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to leave straight away. I mean, I don’t even know who my soulmate is yet.”

“What does that matter?” Merlin’s face was blotchy, the way it only got when he was truly upset, but to his credit his voice barely wobbled. “You’re with someone now, or you will be. You found _The One_. You don’t need me hanging around, getting in the way.”

“You won’t _be_ in the way,” Arthur tried to argue, but even he could hear how weak it sounded. Everyone knew that the soul bond was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, a connection that transcended all others. At the very beginning, when the feelings were so new, he likely wouldn’t even notice Merlin’s existence. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“Oh, right,” Merlin scoffed. “So you’re just going to go up to your soulmate like, hi, I know we’re destined to be together and all but how do you feel about threesomes? Don’t be naive, Arthur. Of course that’s how it’s going to be, and even if it wasn’t, don’t you _want_ it to be like that? This is the kind of thing some people wait all their lives for. I’m not going to screw this up for you.”

Arthur watched helplessly as Merlin double-checked the closet for anything he might have overlooked. Once he was satisfied he had everything, he began to unhook the clothes from their hangers and fold them haphazardly into the open suitcase, teeth catching at his lower lip in concentration. The expression was so very Merlin that it made Arthur’s chest ache, and he groped for something to say that would stop all of this from happening.

“I can’t see all the colours yet,” he blurted.

“What?”

“I can only see red and blue. And a bit of green, I think. It’s — most things are still in black and white, that’s why I’ve been getting headaches.”

That made Merlin pause for a moment, staring up at Arthur like he was crazy.

“That’s not possible,” he said slowly. “You’re supposed to see everything all at once. Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. That’s how it usually works.” Arthur shrugged, and came around the bed to perch next to him, taking in Merlin’s familiar face, the still-strange colour of his eyes. “Maybe that means it’s a mistake. Maybe I can still, I don’t know, fix it, somehow. Make it stop.”

“Do you even hear yourself? This is your _soulmate_ we’re talking about.” Merlin’s expression softened a little, and he touched Arthur’s arm. “It’s sweet that you don’t want me to feel bad, and I’m not going to pretend that I won’t miss you. But I want you to be happy, you know that.”

“Even if it’s with someone else?”

Merlin set his jaw. “It is what it is. We both knew that from the beginning.”

“Merlin, I…” It was on the tip of his tongue to say something stupid, that this wasn’t what he’d wanted, or that somehow they could make it work, but with the way things were it would be too cruel. In any case, Merlin had made it clear he didn’t want to hear what Arthur had to say. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

The suitcase was full. Merlin stared at it for a moment like he didn’t quite know what to do with it, then slowly pushed the lid closed. There was too much in it for it to shut properly, so Merlin sat on it, bending over to flick the clasp first on one side and then the other. Merlin was terrible at packing; Arthur could remember the first time they’d gone on holiday together, how they’d argued over how much luggage to bring and Merlin had nearly broken several records trying to stuff all his clothing into one suitcase, ‘just in case.’ It hurt to think about that now.

“So that’s it then?” Arthur asked, his voice tight. “You’re just going to…walk out of here, and never look back?”

“You’re with someone,” Merlin said again, looking up at him. “It would be — I mean, it’s illegal, for one thing, but it would also be cheating, and I just…it wouldn’t be fair. To any of us.” He tried to smile, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Who knows, maybe it’s for the best. And we’ll still be friends, yeah?”

Arthur could only nod. “Yeah, of course,” he said numbly. “Always.”

“Then we’ll be fine. I promise.”

He stood, picking up the suitcase and wincing predictably at the weight. When he got to Arthur’s side, he hesitated, and for a hopeful second Arthur thought he was going to change his mind and demand that Arthur give up this ridiculous soulmate fantasy so that he could stay. Instead, Merlin sighed, put down his suitcase, and caught Arthur’s face in his hands for a kiss that lasted simultaneously forever and nowhere near long enough.

“For old time’s sake,” he said, smiling crookedly, and then he was gone.

 

 

 

“You only have yourself to blame, you know,” Morgana said, when Arthur turned up at her and Leon’s flat the following weekend and collapsed on their sofa to complain. “I did warn you that continuing in an un-bonded relationship was only asking for trouble.”

“Not now, Morgana,” Arthur groaned. He picked up a pillow and mashed his face into it, wishing he could disappear into the upholstery forever. “I get it. You told me so. Can we focus on how completely miserable I am for a minute, please?”

He could hear Morgana’s smirk even if he couldn’t see it. “I’m sorry, I thought that was what we were doing.”

“You’re not funny.”

“No, I’m deadly serious.” There was a clink of ice in a glass, and she pressed a tumbler into his hand. “You’re being stupid.”

Arthur removed the cushion from his face and glared at her. It was disconcerting, trying to argue with her now that he knew her eyes were green; he kept getting distracted. He focused on her hair instead, which was still reassuringly black. “You always think I’m being stupid.”

“And I’m always right. You know what you have to do to fix this, don’t you?”

“Go after Merlin and convince him to come back?”

Morgana heaved a put-upon sigh. “No. Find your actual soulmate. Then you can stop this ridiculous pining and get on with your life.”

“Pining?” Arthur sputtered, outraged. “I’m not a _girl._ ”

His sister shot him a withering look. “Clearly not, or you’d have more sense. It’s obvious you’re in love with him.”

“Now who’s being ridiculous?”

“It’s not impossible, you know. Just because he isn’t your soulmate doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for him.”

“Oh, come off it,” Arthur scoffed. “Don’t tell me you suddenly believe in all that free love bullshit.”

To his surprise, however, Morgana didn’t answer right away. She glanced towards the door as though checking Leon was out of earshot, then picked up her own glass and swirled it around for a moment, staring into the lambent depths.

“Morgana?”

“It’s not the same as a soul bond,” Morgana said slowly, not looking up at him. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

Arthur sat up straighter. He knew, of course, that soul bonds weren’t the only types of relationship out there; he’d been sleeping with Merlin for years, and neither of them were bonded. But society tended to dismiss those sorts of liaisons as purely carnal in nature — certainly none of them could be as fulfilling or worthwhile as the connection between bonded soulmates. Until now, Arthur had only really heard crazy academics and fringe-dwellers espouse the possibility of genuine love outside of a bond.

“You…” Suddenly, Arthur found it difficult to speak. “ _You_ had a lover?”

Morgana shook her head. “Of course not. As if Father would have let me do anything so foolish.” She sighed, and took a sip of her drink. “But…there was a girl, once. Before Leon. I always hoped somehow my soulmate would turn out to be her.”

She refilled his glass, and they drank together for a long time in silence. Finally, when Arthur was once more down to the dregs, he put down his drink and asked softly, “Are you unhappy?”

“No,” Morgana said. “No, I’m not unhappy at all. Leon and I were made for one another, and I love him dearly.” She glanced away, her fingernails tapping on glass, and when she looked back at him her eyes were shadowed with another, subtler shade of green. “But I think I would have liked to have had the choice, all the same.”

 

 

 

Morgana’s revelations, and particularly her comments about Merlin, remained stuck in Arthur’s head on a loop over the next few days. He didn’t know whether he ought to believe her. Without Merlin around, life was certainly lonelier and duller than he would have liked, but just because Arthur missed the way things used to be didn’t mean he was in love. Everything he’d read on the subject said that love was something only the bonded experienced, a powerful emotion that turned the loved one into an object of limitless admiration and desire. Merlin was clumsy, and obnoxious, and half the time seemed determined to drive Arthur completely insane; how on earth could Morgana get from that to love? And yet, she had seemed so certain.

Christmas came and went. Arthur spent the day alone in his flat with some wine, staring at the tree he and Merlin had decorated a few weeks ago, before any of this had happened. The angel at the top was still crooked – Merlin had almost toppled the whole thing when he’d tried to put it up, and Arthur hadn’t thought to fix it – and the gifts they had bought were still piled underneath it, waiting for their recipients to come and claim them. Arthur had half hoped that Merlin would call, if only to say Merry Christmas, but his phone remained conspicuously silent the entire day, and Arthur couldn’t muster the courage to dial Merlin’s number himself. On Boxing Day, he dismantled the tree and put the gifts away in his closet, putting his and Merlin’s in a separate box from those of their friends’ and shoving them into the far corner of the highest shelf. Maybe he could return them once the shops were open again – God knew there was nothing in there he wanted to keep.

When New Year’s, too, passed by without any sign of Merlin, Arthur decided that enough was enough. While he would never admit it to her face, Morgana was right: the only thing that would fix this pathetic situation was finding his soulmate and moving on. That was obviously what Merlin expected him to do, and it was the only choice he had if he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with only his migraines for company. The only trouble was, he had no idea how to go about finding them.

“It must be someone you see on a regular basis,” Dr Gaius told him, at Arthur’s next appointment. “Is there anyone new at work, or someone who comes in relatively often? It doesn’t have to be every day, but it’s unlikely that the headaches would be so severe if it were someone you met only infrequently.”

“I can’t really think of anyone,” Arthur said, dubious. “Are you sure it can’t be someone I already know, like Merlin, or Elena?”

“Quite sure,” Gaius said repressively, and Arthur didn’t ask again.

It was pure luck that they found her in the end. Gaius had a call from a colleague of his across the city, Dr Geoffrey Monmouth, who asked him to consult on a patient experiencing many of the same symptoms as Arthur had: headaches, spontaneous visual disturbance, and of course the sudden and otherwise inexplicable ability to see colour. When it turned out that she was a secretary at Pendragon Incorporated, and had been temping on the same floor as Arthur for the last month, her identity as his soulmate seemed to be confirmed.

“I’ve taken the liberty of forwarding you her contact information,” Dr Gaius said, when he called to give Arthur the good news. “At Guinevere’s request, of course. She wondered if you might like to go out for dinner to get this straightened out.”

Arthur felt his heart sink. “Of course,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Arthur remembered Guinevere Smyth, though only vaguely; he didn’t recall paying particular attention to her when they’d been introduced, other than helping her to clean up when she dropped the files she’d been holding all over the floor. She seemed well liked by those who knew her, but Arthur had barely spoken two words to her in all the time they’d worked together. It seemed strange to think of her as his soulmate.

Still, Gaius seemed certain that she was The One, or at least a likely candidate, so Arthur made up his mind to at least try to give her the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t interested in bonding with anyone, and if she was like most people she was probably very excited to have found her soulmate at last. She must have plans, dreams, expectations as to how everything would work out. He owed it to her not to screw this up.

 

 

 

The two of them arranged to meet the following evening at the _Camelot Hotel_ , an old-fashioned restaurant that was roughly equidistant between their respective flats. Arthur had been there with Merlin several times, which ought to have made it off-limits, but it had been the first name that came to mind when Gwen had asked him for a recommendation. She had agreed before he could figure out how to take it back.

Now, standing in front of the familiar double doors while he waited for his soulmate to arrive, Arthur wished he had been quicker to come up with an excuse. Everything about the _Camelot_ was filled with memories, from the impressive gilt bannister winding upwards to the first floor to the overly fastidious cloak-room attendant, George, whose stiff back Arthur could just see through the frosted glass. The last time he had come here had been for Merlin’s birthday celebration, and they had spent the entire evening discussing what it would be like to slide down the bannister while the attendant wasn’t looking, and whether or not that alone would be sufficient to give him apoplexy. It had been an immensely entertaining evening, and they had ended it curled up together in bed, trading lazy kisses and coming up with increasingly inventive ways to get one another off. It was one of Arthur’s favourite memories.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, wrapped up in his thoughts, but it seemed like no time at all before a taxi drew up to the curb in front of him and Guinevere Smyth opened the door. With an effort, Arthur shoved all thoughts of Merlin out of his head and strode over to greet her, holding out a hand to help as she stepped from the cab onto the pavement. She smiled shyly up at him, dark curls falling softly around her face, and in spite of his misgivings Arthur felt a faint thrill of electricity as their fingers touched. Around him, the world took on a slightly brighter tint as yet another shade of colour was added to his vision. He took a deep breath. Maybe there was something to this soulmate thing after all.

“You look lovely,” he said, and Gwen blushed. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she agreed, and took his arm.

Whatever spark there might have been between them, it didn’t stop Arthur from scanning the faces of the other patrons when they stepped inside, searching for the one face he might recognise. Of course, Merlin wasn’t there. It was stupid to think he might be, but it still made Arthur’s heart drop as the reality sank in. He steered Gwen towards their table with a hand beneath her elbow, and resolved to stop thinking about his former lover for the rest of the evening. If all went well, soon it wouldn’t matter that Merlin had apparently been happy to leave him without a second thought. Arthur would have his soulmate, and everything else would be forgotten.

 

 

 

To Arthur’s relief, dining with someone who was both his potential soulmate and a virtual stranger was far less awkward than he had expected. After a few false starts, he had the bright idea of asking Gwen how she was enjoying her time at Pendragon Inc, which triggered a surprisingly insightful diatribe about corporate culture and social responsibility. From there, the discussion meandered into Gwen’s university degree – a double major in Economics and Environmental Science – and her plans to someday set up her own firm as a sustainability consultant for multinational corporations. Before he knew it, Arthur was caught up in the ebb and flow of conversation, all thoughts of Merlin and his continuing absence entirely forgotten.

“So,” Gwen said some time later, after they had finished the main course and were waiting for the server to return with their dessert. She crossed her arms neatly on the table and leaned forward. “Do you think maybe we should talk about this?”

“About what?”

“This! Us.” She pointed back and forth between the two of them. “The whole soulmates thing. I mean, before I talked to Dr Monmouth, I had no idea who it could've been.”

“Me neither,” Arthur admitted. “Although, I suppose people never do, do they?”

“I guess not.” Gwen twirled a lock of hair around one finger, chewing on her bottom lip. “But ours isn’t exactly an ordinary situation, is it? I mean, most people, they meet their soulmate and bam, everything changes. Whereas all we really have to go on is our symptoms, and what Dr Gaius and Dr Monmouth have said.”

Arthur studied her face. “Do you think they’re wrong?”

“Well…” Gwen hesitated. “It isn’t exactly what I was expecting. Not that you’re not a wonderful person! Only...before tonight, we barely spoke to one another, and to tell you the truth I always found you kind of intimidating. I mean, before I knew what you were really like.”

“And what am I really like?” Arthur said, teasing. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re a bit rude,” she said. “But nice. Mostly nice. It’s just, I feel like I know next to nothing about you. It’s strange. How are we supposed to know we’re soulmates if we haven’t even had a proper conversation?”

It was a good question, and one that had occurred to Arthur himself more than once since his discussion with Morgana. He thought about Merlin again, and how familiar they had been with one another; there had been times when Merlin could read exactly what Arthur was thinking with only a sideways glance, and Arthur could always tell when Merlin was upset about something, even if he tried to put on a brave front. Compared to that kind of knowledge, a few hours of conversation seemed like a terrible basis for a lifetime of commitment. Or would that all change once the soul bond kicked in?  
  
“Dr Gaius told me we should see further changes in our vision within a couple of days,” Arthur said, after a moment. “Assuming we’re actually soulmates, we should know once the bond has fully developed.”

“Ye-es.” Gwen drew out the word. “I suppose that would be one way of figuring it out.”

She looked down at the tabletop for a moment, and Arthur had the sense that they were approaching the point of the conversation. He waited, watching the play of expressions across her face, until finally she looked up.

“I was thinking maybe we should kiss,” she blurted, before clapping a hand over her mouth. When Arthur raised his eyebrows at her, she blushed deeply but didn’t back down. “It makes sense,” she said, defensively. “Dr Monmouth said that close contact might help speed things along, and that way we can know for sure right away, instead of having to wait and see if anything changes. Not that – I mean, I don’t want to rush you or anything, if you’re not comfortable, I just thought that – ”

“No, you’re right,” Arthur said, taking pity on her obvious embarrassment. “It’s better that we know for certain.”

“Exactly. I mean, it would look so silly if we were all moved in together and then found out our soulmates were other people. I’m not saying that’s likely to happen,” she added, looking worried. “But it could. So I just think we should be sure.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, both waiting for the other to make a move. Arthur could feel his heart beating heavy in his chest, his palms beginning to sweat. He didn’t know whether she was expecting him to act first, or if she’d prefer to be the one who initiated the kiss. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to kiss her at all. He opened his mouth to suggest that maybe they could count to three or something, if only to get it over with, but Gwen started talking at exactly the same time.

“Do you think we – ”

“Maybe if I – ”

Gwen covered her mouth and giggled. “I’m sorry. Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Don’t chicken out on me now,” Arthur said, grinning a little as some of his tension relaxed. “Or I’ll start to think maybe you find me too intimidating. What kind of ogre must I be if my own soulmate doesn’t want to kiss me?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but pushed the centerpiece aside and leaned forward, her expression challenging. Arthur caught her chin gently with one hand and looked into her eyes – they were dark brown, he realised with a pang, although it shouldn’t have mattered.

“Here goes,” he said gravely, and kissed her.

 

 

 

“Merlin! I know you’re in there!” Arthur hammered on the door to Gwaine’s flat yet again, giving the bottom step a kick for good measure. “Let me in, damn it. I need to talk to you.”

“Mate.” Gwaine cracked the door open a little on its chain, his bulky frame filling the space so that he blocked Arthur’s view of the apartment beyond. “He doesn’t want to see you – and frankly, I don’t blame him. Can’t you come back and have your little hissy fit during daylight hours? It’s nearly 3am, man. I need my beauty sleep.”

“This is important, Gwaine,” Arthur said through gritted teeth. “I have to see him.”

He shoved against the door with his shoulder, trying to push his way inside, but Gwaine held firm. “I told you, Merlin is not at home to gentleman callers. Come back later.”

“At least let him know I’m here.”

“Trust me, the whole _neighbourhood_ knows you’re here,” Gwaine said. “And is probably plotting your messy demise as we speak.”

Arthur snorted, but before he could draw breath to protest again, there was the sound of a door opening from inside the flat, and light footsteps padded across the carpeted floor.

“Let him in, Gwaine,” came Merlin’s voice from somewhere inside. “You know he’s not going to leave until he gets what he wants.”

“I could _make_ him leave,” Gwaine offered.

Arthur sputtered. “I’d like to see you try.”

Gwaine just leered at him, and closed the door unceremoniously in Arthur’s face. He heard the sounds of hurried consultation coming from within, then after a minute or two of fierce debate there came the rattle of the chain being drawn back, and finally the door swung open to admit him.

Arthur had been round to Gwaine’s flat a few times in the past, although Gwaine had always been more Merlin’s friend than his. Something to do with Merlin saving his arse in a bar fight, although Arthur had never really pressed for details on that one. With Gwaine, some things were better left unsaid. In any case, he had known enough to guess where Merlin had been staying once he’d left their flat, and it looked like he had been right. When Arthur finally stepped past Gwaine into the living room, he saw Merlin standing beside the overstuffed sofa, his arms folded and his face set in the light from one of the table lamps. He looked exhausted, his hair rumpled and dark rings under his eyes, but even with the day-old stubble and borrowed Marvel pajamas, he had hardly changed at all since Arthur had last seen him.

“Hey, you,” Arthur said softly, suddenly overwhelmed. “Long time no see.”

“Hello, Arthur.” Merlin looked at Gwaine. “Thanks for having my back, but I think I can handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded, and Gwaine rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself. I’m going back to bed.”

He slammed the door to his bedroom loudly enough that someone from the flat next door banged on the wall in retaliation, and Arthur had to duck his head to hide his amusement.  When he glanced up again, Merlin was moving towards the kitchen, the cuffs of his too-long pajama bottoms dragging a little on the floor.

“You want something to drink?” he asked Arthur over his shoulder. “Coffee, tea – I think we might even have some orange juice somewhere, although I wouldn’t recommend it. I’m pretty sure Gwaine’s had it in the back of his fridge since the dawn of time.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh. Okay.” Merlin hesitated, turning the kettle on before changing his mind and flicking it off again. He turned to face Arthur with an apprehensive expression, both hands braced against edge of the counter like he thought he might need to use it as a shield. “So. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Arthur drew in a deep breath. “I had dinner with my soulmate this evening.”

There was a long silence. Merlin let go of the bench and turned back to the kettle, flicking the switch for the third time and setting out two mugs and a couple of tea bags while the water began to boil. Arthur watched impatiently, waiting for him to answer or at least acknowledge what he had said, but Merlin didn’t speak.

“Merlin? Did you hear me?”

“I heard you.” Merlin walked to the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of milk. “I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything would be a good start.” With an effort, Arthur kept control of his temper, although he couldn’t quite rein in the sarcasm. “You could ask me how it went, to begin with. I’d even settle for an ‘I’m glad to hear that, Arthur, how nice for you.’”

“Arthur, it’s the middle of the night.” Merlin rubbed a weary hand across his forehead. “I’m not in the mood to play games. And I’m _really_ not in the mood to listen to you tell me how wonderful your soulmate is. So if that’s all you came here to do – ”

“Of course it isn’t,” Arthur said immediately. “For Christ’s sake, Merlin, you know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Fine. Then please hurry up and tell me whatever it is so that I can go back to bed and get some sleep.”

“Fine.” Arthur pursed his lips. “Her name is Gwen, and she works in my building. We had dinner at the _Camelot_ tonight.”

“How nice for you.” Merlin smirked when Arthur scowled at him. “Wait, is this Receptionist Gwen? As in, the girl who’s been working for your father while Vivian is away?”

“Yeah, that’s her. You know her?”

“We met a couple of times when I stopped by your office. She seemed nice.” Merlin looked away. “I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together.”

The kettle was whistling. Merlin took it from its stand and poured the steaming water into the two cups to steep, then started rummaging in the cupboards for some biscuits, avoiding Arthur’s gaze. In all the time Arthur had known him, Merlin had never taken biscuits with his tea, but he knew Arthur did. The unexpected courtesy made Arthur smile.

“We won’t,” he said to Merlin’s back.

“Sorry? You won’t what?”

“Gwen and I. We’re not going to be very happy together. Or together at all, as a matter of fact.”

Merlin paused in the act of opening the packet of digestives and looked over at him, a frown creasing the centre of his forehead. “I don’t understand. I thought the two of you getting together was just a formality; isn’t it already a done deal?”

“Not exactly.” Arthur let out a short laugh, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m not sure I really understand it either. All I know is, one minute I was kissing her and everything was fine – better than fine, in fact, it was…hell, it was great. Until suddenly it wasn’t.”

Merlin’s mouth tightened. “Arthur…”

“Ask me why it wasn’t great,” Arthur said, overriding him. He heard Merlin sigh.

“Why wasn’t it great?”

“Because I missed you.” Arthur’s mouth twisted. “It was like a flashbulb went off inside my head, and suddenly I realised that the only person I wanted to be kissing was the one who walked out of my life six weeks ago.”

“But – Gwen’s your soulmate,” Merlin protested. “Surely the two of you…”

“She’s not my soulmate anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I kissed her, it was wonderful, but then I remembered what it was like with you and I just...It didn’t feel right. I can’t explain it.” Arthur swallowed hard. “I haven’t been able to see any colours since.”

 

 

 

Like any good British subject, Merlin’s first response to this pronouncement was to finish making the tea. He poured milk and three sugars into his own cup, then added a tiny bit of milk to Arthur’s and set it in front of him along with the plate of biscuits. “It may taste a bit strong,” he said, almost absently. “But that’s your fault, so you’re not allowed to complain.”

Arthur accepted the cup without quibbling, not bothering to point out that he hadn’t asked for tea in the first place. In this, at least, he was content to give Merlin as much time as he needed to process things. He’d made his choice, but it was only fair that he gave Merlin the opportunity to do the same.

Finally Merlin sat down across from him, looking him in the eye for the first time since Arthur had barged his way into Gwaine’s flat. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “It could mean nothing. Or…” He let the thought trail off. Merlin nodded.

“You realise we might have to go through all of this all over again,” he said. “Maybe what happened with Gwen was just a fluke. Your real soulmate could turn up at any time, and then we’d be right back where we started.”

“I know.” Arthur watched him. Merlin’s hand shook a little as he stirred his tea over and over, splashing a few drops into the saucer. He still hadn’t taken a sip, and Arthur wondered if he had made it primarily so that he’d have something to do with his hands. Quietly, he said, “Of course, there is a third possibility.”

The spoon clattered against the side of the mug. “Arthur…”

“No, hear me out. Most of the time, people barely get the chance to be introduced before they’re bonded for life, and that’s the end of it. There’s no risk involved, no freedom. There’s no real danger that the person won’t like you or that they’ll leave you for someone else if you don’t get along. Don’t you think maybe…” He hesitated. “Isn’t it possible there could be something better? Something more real? Don’t you think people should be given a choice?”

“Most people don’t want a choice,” Merlin pointed out. “They like the idea that there’s someone out there who was designed especially for them. They _want_ to belong to someone unequivocally.”

Arthur could only look at him. “Do they?” he said. “Do you?”

Merlin flushed, and looked away. Even in black and white, Arthur could see the guilt written all over his face, and felt his gut contract as a suffocating disappointment washed over him. He pushed back his chair, his untouched tea slopping onto the saucer as he got to his feet.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry I woke you, then.”

“Arthur, no. Wait!” Merlin scrambled after him, catching Arthur’s arm before he could leave. “Wait. Please. Don’t leave.”

Arthur shrugged him off. “It’s fine, Merlin. You left me first, remember? I should have taken the hint, but I guess it didn’t occur to me that you’d gone looking for your soulmate.”

“I left because I don’t _have_ a soulmate,” Merlin blurted, and Arthur stopped in his tracks. “I’ve been able to see colour since I was born, Arthur – there’s no one out there waiting for me.”

Stunned, Arthur opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It wasn’t that he’d never heard of someone being born without a soulmate; it did happen, although it was comparatively rare. It was just that he’d never associated such a thing with Merlin. He was always so infallibly bright and cheerful, not at all the resentful and lonely individual he had always been lead to imagine. He watched as Merlin ran a hand through his hair and began to pace across the kitchen. When he next spoke, his voice was very quiet. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never talked about it? Why I said I wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship, and never even mentioned looking for my supposed other half?”

“I…I guess I just assumed you didn’t want to.”

Merlin’s smile was bitter. “I wanted a soulmate more than anything. I just knew I would never have one.” He closed his eyes, a spasm of pain crossing his face. “And now neither do you, and it’s all my fault. I knew agreeing to live with you was a bad idea. I should never have been so selfish.”

He stood in the centre of the kitchen, his arms wrapped around his torso like a little kid after a nightmare, and Arthur wanted to hold him so badly his throat hurt. He crossed the few steps of linoleum between them and took hold of Merlin’s shoulders, turning him so that he had to look him in the face. “Merlin,” he said. “Don’t you get it? I _chose_ you. I don’t care about seeing colours or perfect compatibility, or any of it. I wanted to be with you.”

Merlin’s face crumpled. “But _why_?”

“Because.” Arthur tried to smile. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe I’m crazy for thinking that choosing someone is better than just being given everything on a silver platter, or maybe…Maybe I’m just so in love with you I don’t need anybody else.”

He heard Merlin’s breath catch and waited, unable to gauge from his expression how he would respond. It was like waiting for an axe to fall, not knowing if it would miss or if he was about to lose his head, and as the silence dragged on Arthur began to think that perhaps he had miscalculated; maybe Merlin _didn’t_ want this, and he’d thrown away his only real chance at happiness for someone who only saw him as a temporary fling. Then Merlin made a helpless sound and surged forward, his hands fisting in Arthur’s shirt as he dragged him into a clumsy kiss, and suddenly Arthur couldn’t think at all.

 

 

 

When Arthur had kissed Gwen, the reaction had been immediate. Colour had flooded his vision, the world so rich and full that even through his closed eyelids he felt as if he could see everything, finally, as it was meant to be seen. Gwen’s body had been soft and light in his arms, and it was all so perfectly easy he couldn’t believe he’d been opposed to it for so long. 

Kissing Merlin, however, was altogether different. There was no bright light or colourful vision. He felt no compulsion to give in and live happily ever after. On the contrary, he was fairly sure than any minute now, Merlin was going to accidentally elbow him in the stomach or stand on his foot, and at some point in the near future they were going to start yelling at one another about something ridiculous. But Arthur was also pretty certain that they would stick together regardless - because they kept making that choice, not because they could imagine nothing else.

Things with Merlin had never been easy, or perfect. They had first met when Arthur had bumped into Merlin on the street, too busy with his phone to watch where he was going. It had been hatred at first sight, and when they had run into one another again at one of Morgana's parties, they had seemed destined to remain eternal enemies. And yet, somehow over the years they had squabbled and fought and bickered their way into a relationship, one that Arthur refused to give up so long as he had the power to choose otherwise. Even knowing all that a soulmate could be, he would take those hard-fought battles over a woman he would never argue with in a heartbeat. He hadn't even really needed the kiss to tell him that, and nor, it seemed, had Gwen.

“So, something better than a soulmate, huh?” Merlin said, when the two of them finally came up for air. A smile bloomed slowly across his face. “You have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur nudged him back up against the table, biting at his lower lip and sliding his fingers beneath the elastic of Merlin’s borrowed pajamas to find bare skin. Merlin’s hips jerked, knocking his abandoned teacup to the floor with a clatter, and through the wall Arthur heard Gwaine yell angrily, “Get a room, you two!”

Merlin pressed his face into Arthur’s shoulder to stifle his laughter. “We should probably stop,” he said, although his arms were still wrapped tight around Arthur’s waist. “The guest room only has a single bed, and Gwaine will kill me if we have sex on his sofa.”

Arthur grinned. “I’m game to try the bed if you are.”

“With Gwaine and Percy right next door?” Merlin’s nose wrinkled. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not have an audience.”

“Fair point.” Arthur kissed him again, unable to get over how good it felt to finally have Merlin in his arms once more. When he drew back, he caught Merlin’s gaze and smiled. “Come home with me?” He asked, his voice husky.

Merlin leaned forward so that their foreheads touched, his eyes warm, and up close Arthur almost thought he could see a sliver of blue somewhere in their silvery depths.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> “I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.” 
> 
> ― Kiersten White, _The Chaos of Stars_.


End file.
